My recent trips to Fox’s Cross to photograph the splendour of the Blackthorn blossom have inspired a further entry into the Lost In Fields series of short, stills-based films. What a contrast with No.8, inspired as it was by desolate frozen wastes and luckless polar expeditions. Here, I was going for something as fleeting, delicate and ephemeral as the blossom itself, including too the songs of the robin and the skylark, both of which soundtracked our time in this, another of Kent’s ordinary/extraordinary fields.
A last hurrah of froth from Fox’s Cross.
A second trip to the big open field at Fox’s Cross, bordered on all sides by hedges of Blackthorn, their branches mustardy with lichen, and their blossom, just going over, capturing pinks, creams, beige and baby-blues in the dipping of the sunlight. As an accompaniment to the taking of these photographs, two skylarks hovered over the middle of the field, singing their respective hearts out.
A few more photographs from the blousy clouds of blackthorn blossom at Fox’s Cross. I’m rather reminded, happily, of The Wicker Man….
On Tuesday, we went out in the late evening sunshine, which was pinkish and crystal-clean, to check out a particular field bordered by great long hedges of flowering blackthorn, and what a show of froth – our visit there accompanied by the cheerfulness of a loud, unseen robin.